Poem: The keys to God

Issue 

Poem: The keys to God

The keys to God

I walked along the lino
Where the little children trod,
I knelt before the statues
That had found the keys to God,
And the statues never answered
But they looked so cool and wise,
And a vacant kind of wisdom
Kept on smiling from their eyes.
I bowed my head and whispered
All the love I felt within,
I beat my childish heart
For having entertained a sin,
I looked up at the statues
And it seemed their eyes did shine.
But the only tears that sparkled
In the place were tears of mine.
I spoke and heard an echo
Whisper round the blocks of stone,
I felt a mighty company
Though I was all alone,
But I knew the statues listened
And I knew they had the keys,
So I kept my small hands patterned
And I stayed down on my knees.
Now the feet of little children
Tread the lino where I trod,
And I stand before the statues
That have sold the keys to God,
And the statues still don't answer
But they look so cool and wise,
And a vacant kind of wisdom
Keeps on smiling from their eyes.
Denis Kevans

If you like our work, become a supporter

Green Left is a vital social-change project and aims to make all content available online, without paywalls. With no corporate sponsors or advertising, we rely on support and donations from readers like you.

For just $5 per month get the Green Left digital edition in your inbox each week. For $10 per month get the above and the print edition delivered to your door. You can also add a donation to your support by choosing the solidarity option of $20 per month.

Freecall now on 1800 634 206 or follow the support link below to make a secure supporter payment or donation online.